A/N: Hey everyone! I've decided to write a series of one-shots about the characters in "Storm and Silence" by the extraordinarily talented Rob Thier. Hopefully you all enjoy it! Be sure to vote or comment if you do ;) Constructive criticism is most welcome!

Song is "Dark Waltz" by the incredible Jackie Evancho, when she was around 12 years old. This was performed live on the American TV show "Dancing With the Stars". Her voice is literally perfect; go check out her songs! :D
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The ballroom was too hot.

Rikkard Ambrose picked at the starch black collar of his waistcoat, eyes scanning the room.

He sat alone, happy to be out of the preying gazes of the stuffy nobles. He neither knew nor recognized a single soul other than Lilly, save for the few she had pointed out to him. She had insisted on accompanying him here tonight once she had found out that he was here for business. She still didn't know exactly what he planned to do, but he knew she prided herself on being a part of his affairs.

Dalgliesh was here somewhere. He wondered if the bastard was planning something, if he was waiting patiently to make his move. Rikkard's mouth tightened into a thin line as he recalled the mocking letter sent to his office that morning. He'll pay for that, he promised himself.

Rikkard's eyes narrowed, studying the many dancers. Dalgliesh was cunning. How many of the guests here were actually in league with him? How many were sucking up to the scoundrel, just to survive? He shook his head. He couldn't blame some people for living in fear. But he was certainly up for giving justice where it was due.

Rikkard stood abruptly, suddenly feeling too complacent with his post in the chair, and weaved his way towards the refreshment table. He glared at the pristine, shiny figure of the glass he chose before once again standing in the corner where he could remain unseen.

Scowling, he took a tiny sip, and was relieved when it slid easily down his throat. The nobles, at least, were able to choose good alcohol, even if the ball left a little to be desired. He turned his attention back to the room.

A jaunty, fast-paced tune flew across the ballroom, and the couples gathered together in a huge circle. Rikkard knew the song well. It was one of his father's favorite dances. His little finger twitched unceremoniously as forbidden memories rose to the forefront of his mind, and he cursed himself. Now was not the time to focus on the past. He searched quickly for something to take his mind off the uncalled for flashback when he caught sight of a pale green gown.

Rikkard saw the girl standing on the opposite side of the room, a fake smile plastered on her face as she took the arm of another gentleman. Her cheeks were flushed from the previous song and a few stray tendrils had escaped the pins in her hair. He latched onto the vision eagerly, draining his mind, focusing on the only thing that mattered anymore.

Lilly.

Rikkard followed her around the room with his eyes, absently noting the precise moves she made with her feet and the way she carried herself across the floor. She swayed accordingly and clapped in time with the music perfectly, but he knew it was just for show. She was a good dancer. He knew that, of course; he had danced with her once, ages ago. But Lilly hated it. She had always disliked dancing and he knew she thought herself an incompetent partner compared to the other ladies.

Rikkard disagreed. She didn't need to be a good dancer to be a good partner.

Looking at her now suddenly made him ache to twirl her around the room on his own, all over again. He remembered their dance like it was yesterday. She had been feather light in his arms, small and soft and a stark change from the fiery ifrit he knew on a daily basis. Lilly cleaned up well, he had to admit. She had always seemed pretty, even behind the baggy men's clothing of her disguise, and now it became much more apparent that she was, in fact, stunning.

He knew he was not the only one in the room to watch her fly around the floor as gracefully as a butterfly fluttered from flower to flower. There were other men here--nobles and suitors from all over, all at Dalgliesh's beck and call. Rikkard's hands clenched into fists. He'd be dammed before he let that bloody fiend from hell get anywhere near Lilly. He'd told her to dance with other members of the ton to remain inconspicuous, of course, but knowing Lilly, she might just end up dancing her way straight into trouble. He had to make sure she didn't end up hurt. This was Dalgliesh's realm, and he had dragged her into the crossfire of their deadly feud. Protect Lilly. The thought was instinctive by now.

Rikkard crept closer. The shadows released him from the dark corners of the ballroom and he stepped willingly into the light, unobtrusively slipping nearer the circle of dancers.

Lilly's bright frame was very apparent against the standard colors of the ton. Her green gown swirled out around her as she spun, guided by the gentleman at her side.

Rikkard glared at the fellow. The man was clearly a noble, with his pressed clothing and carefully styled hair. His finger twitched rapidly at his side. Lilly could do better than this slimeball.

He drew closer.

The girl was dancing effortlessly. She was light, airy, delicate; a small little bird flying amidst the masses of unruly storm clouds. Her arms were out, her slippers sliding easily over the floor. Lilly was the wind, a breeze that was refreshing to feel, to look at, to admire. Rikkard's feet moved on their own accord, and he gave no notice to what he was doing anymore.

The music paused for a heartbeat and Rikkard seized his chance. He stole in front of the noble and took her slender white hand in his, felt its warmth and smooth skin under his touch. He spun her once, and she turned, her eyes wide as she beheld him standing there, poised and set to strike.

Her steps slowed as she faltered, eyes darting between his figure and her previous partner whom Rikkard had cut off so rudely. She looked a question at him, which he deigned not to answer.

Instead, he swept her fully in his arms, whirling abruptly in the opposite direction of the noble, and proceeded to dance.

He was deadly in his precision, in his turns and glides and his silent, stealthy prowl underneath the candlelights. His steps matched hers, their movements equal, both sharp and deliberate and bold. Lilly flew beside him, choosing not to question his unprecedented decision to dance with her, but quietly refusing to follow his lead and demanding he let her set the pace.

Together they were one. Complete and total and whole, each the complete part of the other. If Rikkard was shrouded in shadow, Lilly shone with the light of the stars. She was the sun to his moon, the dawn to his dusk, the beginning to his end. Together they brought each other to a balance, an equilibrium of harmony that could not be undone.

Rikkard gazed at the woman in his arms, content with himself. As long as he could hold her like this, she could be safe. Safe from Dalgliesh. Safe from his past. Safe from any danger his profession threw in his way. Lilly was safe. Safe and sound.

He tightened his grip on her waist and drew her the tiniest bit closer to his chest. She didn't notice, as usual. She was currently glaring at the couple next to them, too caught up in making angry looks at what she deemed "pure chauvinism" to notice his softening features. The longer Rikkard gazed at her, the easier it was to forget himself.

The dance went on and the music swelled. He didn't know how long they'd been dancing. Lilly hadn't complained yet, which he took as a good sign, and she hadn't once let go of his hand. He half-heartedly prayed that the music would never stop. If it did, he would have to let his Lilly go. That would be putting her at risk again.

Lilly glanced up at him, just for a moment, and he caught her gaze with his. His finger twitched of its own accord and tapped itself lightly on her waist. Thankfully she didn't seem to feel it, and he relaxed marginally. Damn him for letting his emotions get the best of him. He still had to learn to control himself around her.

She looked beautiful. God only knew how he longed to tell her that someday, how he hated himself for keeping his compliments inside. But it was for the best, he knew. Protect Lilly. It was for her own good that he pushed her away. He couldn't jeopardize her safety. If Dalgliesh knew his affections...

He shivered slightly at the thought of what his enemy would do to her if she was captured. He couldn't let that happen; would not let that happen. His hold turned into a vice grip on her waist. Dalgliesh would never win. Lilly was his.

Mine. My little ifrit. My...

"Sir?" Lilly's voiced interrupted his train of thought. "Mr. Ambrose?"

"What?" He always sounded so cold, even to his own ears. It was a habit he could not break.

"Um, can you let go of me? The dance has ended." She looked at the other couples and then gave him a pointed look.

"Oh," Rikkard said, removing his hands from her waist. He bowed as fast as possible and stepped back from her, watching her curtsy.

A flash of blond hair reached his vision from over the top of her head. His fists clenched at his sides as he followed the man through narrowed eyes.

"Miss Linton," he said emotionlessly, "you look thirsty. Why don't you go visit the refreshment table?"

She seemed puzzled by his suggestion, but her face brightened at the prospect of food and drink. "An excellent suggestion, sir! I'll do that right away." She left hurriedly, eager to escape the dance floor.

Rikkard watched her leave, making sure she was well away from the man he was about to face. Once he was sure that she would not be in harm's way, he slipped in and out of the crowd, following the directions he'd memorized from the letter in his office that morning.

He'd told Karim to get someone to watch Lilly while he was gone. Karim, of course, was busy watching one of the exits to the ballroom, just in case things got a little out of hand. Rikkard didn't know what to expect. He was confident in his ability to hold his own if it came down to a duel, but one never knew what could happen in his line of business.

He picked his way carefully, slipping out of the ballroom with ease and heading towards the heart of the extensive garden where he knew someone would be waiting.

It was just at the entrance to the garden that he paused. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He was ready for this. He had prepared everything even in the short amount of time Dalgliesh had given him. He would face his enemy alone.

He recalled the dance he'd shared with the woman only moments before. Protect Lilly. There was a reason he had sent her away. He hoped she remained safely tucked away by the chocolate. If there was anything that could manage to anchor her in place, food would be it.

A bird screeched in the distance, bringing Rikkard out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes and straightened his shoulders, becoming the picture of intimidation.

It was now or never. Dalgliesh was waiting.

So on he marched, into the cover of darkness, leaving his love safely behind.
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